Yesterday you turned twenty-one months old. In the last month you have developed in to quite the director (or dictator on a bad day). You march us around the house instructing us to ‘sit’ here or go there, spin like this or clap like that. Mostly we find this endearing and we understand that it’s your way of controlling even just a little bit in what must seem like a world completely out of your command. Sometimes, however, it is just plain exhausting. For example, I love that you have decided to have an opinion on sartorial decisions but when deciding on which pants to wear involves fifty changes of mind I sometimes yearn for my monster who just preferred to wear no pants at all. Sometimes determination coupled with indecisiveness leads to epic meltdowns. Like yesterday when you couldn’t decide where you wanted to nap so instead you cried and screamed for forty-five minutes until you finally let me cuddle you into a sob-drenched slumber.
That said, the tough days are getting easier. With every new word that you acquire you increase your ability to communicate what it is that your twenty-one month old self so desperately desires. Not that this means that you always get it. Although since you learned how to say please our ability to deny you more milk or ‘tanas’ or ‘cheeeeese’ just before dinner, has been weakened. It’s fair to say you might just have parental manipulation down pat because when you tilt your head to one said, look at me with those baby blue eyes and utter ‘pa-weeeeese’ I am utterly defenseless. Now is probably a good time to impart on you the sage advice to ‘use your power for good, not evil’.
You have always been a rough and tumble kid. I can’t count the number of times I have had bite marks on my shoulder, a semi-shiner from your (playful) headbutting, or scratches on my chest. Apparently this is all within the realm of ‘normal’ behaviour for a toddler however being your mummy I am prone to worry that maybe you’re just a bit too rough and that pushing the school-uniformed kid in the playground might have been just a bit too tumble. So it has been with surprise and joy that I have watched the kind and caring side of you blossom. You have learned to be gentle with animals: patting dogs softly and blowing kisses to the friendly gecko in your room. And although you still dole out the punches and kicks you equally serve up hugs and kisses. One day when I was in the middle of coughing spasm I felt a tug on my leg to look down and see you handing me a box of tissues. Yes, you’re becoming a real sweetie.
Most of the time. You know, when you’re not busting out a fart joke or burping deliberately in my face. Last weekend we were having dinner at your Ma-ma’s and she was being silly making fake fart noises. You thought this was hilarious. Not to be outdone however, you lifted one cute little bum cheek and let out a real one. I may or may not have spat my food out laughing. Pretty sure that was a parenting fail but damn kid you have ‘comic timing’ down to a tee (and unfortunately I don’t think you got that from me).
It’s been a month of new developments and milestones (you moved out of your cot and started potty training) that has really emphasised just how much you are no longer our baby but a growing young boy ready to take on the world, one fart joke at a time.
I love you gorgeous boy.